When I'm Inside You
by Spinning-In-Infinity
Summary: Spiders are hard to catch. When Deadpool manages to pin one down on an NYC rooftop, he thinks he deserves a prize. WARNING: Consensual non-con & rape-play


**When I'm Inside You**

 _ **Author's Note:**_ _Inspired partially by the song Tear You Apart by She Wants Revenge. Title from Animals by Maroon 5. My new OTP._

Spider-Man was being hunted.

Peter's heart was racing like a frightened animal in a cage as he swung through the city night, his limbs finally beginning to ache after hours of being chased. He paused for the briefest moment on a rooftop, his breath coming in frantic gasps as he glanced around for his pursuer. He could have sworn they'd been right on his tail, but now he couldn't see them anywhere. He flexed his weary muscles and prepared to dive from the roof, when he felt an arm enclose around his waist, followed by a sharp pain at the nape of his neck, between the seam of his mask and suit. He gave a strangled gasp and struggled to break free, but damn, those hands were strong – impossibly strong – and his limbs were starting to feel like lead. His super strength had never failed him before – what the hell was happening to him? He felt as weak as he had before he'd been bitten.

"Itsy bitsy spider. . ." The voice was deep and gravelly beneath the black-and-red of his captor's mask, soft and threatening against the fabric at Peter's neck.

"Let me go," Peter growled, forcing as much aggression into his voice as he could muster. "Fucking psycho, I'll kill you."

"Promises, promises," Deadpool crooned, one finger tracing a line up Peter's sternum. "But we both know that's not your style, is it, Spidey-Boy?"

"I could make an exception," Peter twisted and took aim towards the merc's face with his left web-shooter, only to be dealt a swift gut-punch that knocked the wind out of his lungs. He sank to his knees, gasping for breath, barely conscious of the long digits gripping the crown of his mask and tugging it free.

"Now, let's have a look at that pretty face."

Peter's scalp stung as Deadpool wound his fingers through his hair and pulled so their eyes met. With his other hand, Deadpool slowly lifted the bottom of his own mask, revealing a mouth of pearly white teeth set in that tangled mess of scarred skin, stretched in a malicious smile that send shivers down Peter's spine. The merc slowly licked his lips and pulled a gun from his belt, pressing the hard muzzle against the tender flesh under Peter's chin, forcing his gaze upwards into those cold, white eyeholes.

"Shooters off," he said, his voice low and commanding. Peter wondered if he could web the gun out of Deadpool's hand before he could pull the trigger and dash his brains over the roof. Deadpool curled his fingers lovingly around Peter's throat, moving the gun to hover just over Peter's left eye so all he could see was the long black tunnel that would lead to his ultimate demise. Trying not to break eye contact, Peter unfastened the web-shooters from around his wrists and dropped them to one side, making a mental note of where they landed.

"Good boy," Deadpool purred. He gently pushed the muzzle against Peter's lips and he tasted the tang of gunpowder. "C'mon," he chirped, as though trying to entice a nervous cat. "Open up." He gave Peter's throat a sharp squeeze, startling the teen into a gasp that was enough to force the gun through his lips and onto his tongue, his jaw straining against the awkward bulk.

"That's it," Deadpool rhythmically pushed the shaft in and out of Peter's mouth, not quite hitting the back of his throat. The unforgiving gunmetal scraped against his teeth and he coughed, his spit tasting like iron. His body was shaking with pain and exhaustion, his fingers gripped pathetically around Deadpool's wrist. This helplessness was terrifying – more so than any enemy he'd yet faced in his superhero career.

Deadpool slowly withdrew the Desert Eagle and tucked it safely back in its holster.

"How's about we give you something sweeter to suck, huh?"

Peter scrabbled desperately at the merc's choking fingers, but found himself being lifted by the throat into a standing position, the tips of his toes just grazing the ground, the weight of his body making it harder to breathe. Deadpool quickly undid the zipper at the crotch of his suit and Peter's stomach churned as his long, thick cock was released from its confines. The length was mottled and scarred, like the rest of Deadpool's skin, the tip a raw shade of pink, already leaking.

"Don't worry, sweet cheeks – clean and tested," Deadpool grinned wolfishly and pulled Peter closer, lowering his feet so he could at least breathe a little easier, though his vision was still swimming. Deadpool ducked down to nibble the skin beneath Peter's earlobe. "Now," he whispered, "are you gonna be a good boy for Daddy?"

"Please. . ." Peter whimpered, hearing how weak he sounded and hating it.

"Please. . .?"

"Don't . . . don't kill me." He couldn't remember ever having pleaded for his life before.

Deadpool stiffened for a moment, then Peter felt that grin against this neck. "Then don't bite," he said. He moved his hand from Peter's throat to the back of his head and laced his fingers through his hair again. Peter's knees buckled, and he came face to face with Deadpool's dick. Jesus, he was big – the Desert Eagle had clearly just been preparation for the main event. He heard the clink of metal and looked up to see Deadpool dangling a pair of pink fluffy handcuffs above his head, like he might tease a dog with a bone. Quicker than Peter could react, the merc bent over and secured Peter's wrists behind his back, clicking the cuffs shut, tighter than Peter could escape from without breaking his thumbs.

"Open u~up," Deadpool sang, taking his cock by the base and smearing the tip across Peter's lips. Peter gave a choked sob and then his mouth was invaded by four of Deadpool's eight inches. His head jerked back but Deadpool had too tight a grip for him to pull away. The texture of the merc's skin was rough, and the bitter taste of precum coated his tongue. Deadpool pulled back a couple inches before snapping his hips forward again, the tip of his cock hitting Peter's uvula and making him gag. He set up an easy rhythm – in, out, in, out – eliciting deep, wet noises from the back of Peter's throat that made his skin crawl with shame.

"That's it, baby boy," Deadpool groaned, his voice dripping with carnal lust as he mouth-fucked the young hero. "How's that taste?" Not waiting for an answer, he quickened the pace and Peter strained as hard as he could to move away, his throat constricting in a vain attempt to reject the onslaught of Deadpool's dick. His eyes were streaming and long threads of spit hung from his lips and chin, frothing into bubbles at the corners of his mouth. Deadpool suddenly withdrew his cock and rubbed it against Peter's face while the teen tried to regain his breath. Deadpool slipped his end back into Peter's mouth and pushed the head against the inside of his cheek, tapping his fingers hard against the damp outer skin.

"Fuuuuuuuck," he slid back down Peter's tongue, thrusting into the hot, sticky wetness with almost loving precision. "You got it, Spidey – take Daddy Deadpool's dick like a little whore."

Peter's throat was full of the dark, earthy taste of the older man. He felt dirty, degraded, humiliated, and still Deadpool continued to fuck his mouth like it was just another hole to be filled. When at last he started retching in earnest, the merc pulled out, holding Peter's head in place while he spluttered and coughed, raining spit and precum onto the concrete floor. Deadpool lifted his chin with two thick fingers and surveyed the damage.

"What a delicious mess you are," he said, leaning down and pressing his lips against Peter's in a kiss that shocked him more than the sight of his dick. He licked around Peter's mouth, lapping up all excess trace of saliva and his own fluid from the superhero's skin and tongue. In a reckless act of defiance, Peter sank his teeth into Deadpool's lower lip, drawing blood, and the merc jerked back with a grunt of surprise. He rubbed at the swollen flesh with his finger – already healing as Peter watched – and licked the scarlet liquid away with his tongue. He drew back his arm and back-handed Peter across the face with enough strength to send him sprawling to the ground.

"Hope you're not venomous, little spider," Deadpool said in a musing tone. "Not sure the world could cope with a Spider-Pool."

"Fuck you," Peter snarled, his cheek grazing against the hard floor.

"Oh, you're gonna," Deadpool's fingers were tugging at the seam between the halves of his suit, and Peter kicked out wildly, tugging desperately at the unyielding metal of the handcuffs in an effort to free himself. Deadpool dropped to his knees and straddled Peter across the backs of his thighs, leaving his calves flailing uselessly behind him, the soles of his feet battering pathetically against the merc's back.

"You're gonna be glad you slicked me up so good, baby," Deadpool chuckled as he pulled Peter's pants down his hips, revealing his ass to the night air. "Ooooh, commando!" The merc sounded as gleeful as a kid at Christmas.

Peter drew in his breath to scream for help – the shame burned like a brand – but Deadpool, one step ahead, used the moment his mouth was open to shove a wad of thick material into it. His heart sank further at the injustice of being gagged with his own mask. He tried to spit it out, but a long stretch of duct tape beat him to the punch, He wondered bitterly if there was nothing Deadpool didn't keep in those fucking belt pouches. He could feel the merc's thick fingers inching closer to his asshole, and he pressed his forehead hard against the paving, his eyes screwed shut as Deadpool rubbed his thumb against his entrance like he was coaxing it into yielding to his touch. He felt a dribble of something wet on his butt-cheek and the sound of spitting, and he yelled against the gag in protest.

Deadpool shushed him, stroking his hair in mock tenderness, and Peter felt something considerably larger than his thumb pressing against the tight ring of muscle. He felt himself agonizingly stretch as the first inch slid into him, tears springing to his eyes as his body hastily struggled to adjust to the sudden violation. Deadpool pulled back and then pushed in again, five inches deep, his gravelly voice singing in exhalations of delight.

" _I want to hold you close, skin pressed against me tight. . ._ " he began to quicken his pace, the thick shaft of flesh feeling so strange, so alien inside Peter's body, making his insides burn. " _As I whisper in your ear_. . ." he leaned across Peter's smaller frame, spread his body over his like a cage of muscle, and bit into the cartilage of his ear, " _I want to fucking tear you apart_. . ."

Peter growled against the mask. Deadpool pulled himself back upright, dragging Peter's hips with him so he was in a prostrating pose – ass in the air, forehead against the ground. His cock planted firmly in Peter's ass, he pulled the key to the cuffs from nowhere and released Peter's wrists. His shoulders relieved of their strain, Peter threw his arms forward, where his wrists were immediately reclaimed by the long fingers of Deadpool's right hand. The broad weight of Deadpool's chest pressed against his back, the merc's breath hot and damp against the back of his neck. Deadpool pushed the remaining three inches of his cock into Peter's ass with a sharp thrust and the teen screamed through the tape.

"This is just the prelude, baby boy," Deadpool purred. "Now the real fun begins." Chucking like a devil, he pulled himself out almost to the tip before driving into Peter's ass right to the hilt. Peter sobbed and tried to breathe through the pain.

"If I take your muzzle off, d'you promise not to bark, little doggy?" Deadpool said, and Peter nodded in desperation. With a sharp tug, Deadpool ripped the tape from his mouth and Peter spat the mask out onto the ground below him, his breath coming in frantic gasps.

"Thaaaat's it," Deadpool soothed, his hips rocking a hypnotic tempo into Peter. "Daddy Deadpool's gonna be good to you, Spidey-Boy." Reaching round, he forced his hand beneath the waistline of Peter's pants and began to massage the teen's cock. "Methinks you doth protest too much, baby. Your little web-shooter thinks you like it."

Peter shook his head, but he couldn't deny, sickened as it made him, that the repeated pressure on his prostate was setting a small fire smouldering in the pit of his groin, dragging his reluctant erection into half-life.

"So noble Spider-Man likes getting his ass pounded? What would the kiddies say?"

"I. . . don't!" Peter growled, pulling fruitlessly against the vice-grip Deadpool had on his wrists.

"Does it feel good, Spidey?" Deadpool's voice was right by his ear,

Peter twisted his head to spit in the merc's face, but his mouth dropped open as Deadpool began to jerk in and out of him with the force and speed of a piston. At this angle, every thrust hit true on his prostate, sending shocks of cruel pleasure right to his toes. Deadpool's fingers worked deftly along the length of his cock until it was treacherously stiff, twitching in response to its assailant's touch.

"Tell me you want it, Spidey," Deadpool grunted, his voice strained, his pace incessant. "Beg for it."

Peter shook his head again and Deadpool suddenly gripped his cock hard enough to send a jolt of pain through his body. Hating himself, Peter choked the words out. "P-please. . . please. . ."

"Please what?" Deadpool flattened his tongue against Peter's neck and licked along his nape. "Tell Daddy what you want, baby boy."

"Please. . . f-fuck me. . ."

"Say my name, baby."

"D-Deadpool. . . fuck me. . . please. . ."

Deadpool snarled and pounded in and out of his ass, his whole body pushing again and again against Peter's, forcing the breath from his lungs in weak, repetitive gasps. Peter could feel his orgasm rising inside him, like white-hot lava threatening to spill over, decimating any will-power in its path. Deadpool's thrusts were becoming erratic, desperate, and Peter knew that the other man couldn't be far behind. He screwed his eyes shut against what he knew was coming, his hips jerking helplessly into Deadpool's palm, seeking that pressure to send him over the edge. Deadpool's hips snapped against Peter's ass cheeks, and Peter let out a howl of frustration and indescribable pleasure as he shot his hot cum into Deadpool's hand. The nerves in his groin pulsed and throbbed, sending spurt after spurt across the ground beneath him. His legs shook and would have buckled were Deadpool's arm not propping him up,

"Oh Gods— yeah, baby," Deadpool's words were slurred, almost incoherent. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum— fuck— fuck— urgh!"

Peter winced and sobbed with pleasure and shame as he felt Deadpool's giant cock pulsing inside him, the hot, wet cum staining his insides, shooting deep, deep inside him, marking him. He collapsed in Deadpool's arms and the merc fell against him, panting like he'd sprinted a marathon. He pulled his length out of Peter, and he felt warm fluid running down the inside of his legs.

That was enough.

"Ch— Chimi— changas. . ." he gasped, and Wade's fingers flew at once to his face, cupping the cheek he'd slapped in one hand while ripping his mask off with the other. Peter looked up into his lover's intense, deep blue eyes and smiled weakly.

"Are you okay, baby?"

"Yeah," Peter swayed where he sat – he felt dazed, cum-drunk.

"Did I go too far? I went too far. I'm sorry—"

Peter stroked Wade's face and planted a soft kiss on his lips. "You didn't. I'm fine. That was. . ." he shook his head, not quite able to verbalise the hurricane of sensations ripping through his body at that moment. "Hot," he finished, lamely.

It had been Peter's idea to try this scenario. They'd been experimenting with different forms of sex-play for weeks, and he knew the crazy, sadistic side of his boyfriend was desperate to do it. If he was honest, he hadn't expected it to be _that_ hot. Perhaps he was secretly something of a sadist, too. Or a masochist. Perhaps he just liked being dominated occasionally – wholly and completely. It had been Wade's idea to use the super-suppressant serum the Avengers had confiscated from a villain some two months ago. "For authenticity," he'd said. Peter stretched his arms, the feeling of weakness already wearing off.

He let his head fall back against the hard ground, his chest rising and falling as he tried to ease his heart back into a regular beat. Wade lay down beside him, turning over onto his right side to spoon against the teen, his body small and limber in comparison to Wade's solid muscle.

"You good, baby boy?" he murmured, curling his arm around Peter, his left across the boy's waist, the right forming a makeshift pillow against the concrete.

"I'm good," Peter confirmed.

"Hey," Wade pressed a gentle kiss on the side of Peter's neck. "Next time—"

"Next time?" Peter grinned, happy that Wade had clearly enjoyed it as much as he had.

"Yeah," Wade nuzzled against Peter's shoulder. "Next time – don't say 'don't kill me'."

Peter turned in Wade's arms to look into his eyes. "Sorry," he said. "Why not? You. . . you kill people, Wade. It's kinda your thing."

"I know," Wade framed Peter's face with his hand, brushing his thumb along his cheekbone. "Bad people. But not you. Never you."

Peter smiled softly and kissed Wade's warm lips, his whole being bathing in the love and affection he felt for the loud-mouthed merc. Despite their time already spent together, there were still moments of tenderness that caught him by surprise. Wade was still somewhat insecure about his place in their relationship, like he was waiting for the moment when Peter would leave. Peter hoped that, someday soon, he would accept that he wasn't going anywhere. He ran his hand over the coarse skin of Wade's head and kissed him again, longer this time.

"Okay," he whispered. "I love you."

Wade sighed, a tentatively happy smile on his chapped lips. He hugged Peter closer, as though he wanted them to melt together.

"I love you, too."


End file.
